Losing the Plot
by Spiritual Stone
Summary: Drunk!LinkXSheik: He'd heard plenty of stories about drunk people. How the alcohol made them giggly or sad or aggressive or completely and utterly crazy. So, having never heard of hard-nosed, HOT, mysterious Sheik to be drunk, Link was a little curious...


**Hey guys, I was supposed to put this up at Christmas, but it wasn't finished so I shoved it up to Valentines, but I couldn't do it (I was having a break up, sigh) and now, with some fine adjustments, here it is!**

**First gay story. I'm very happy with myself, because I believe either f the guys are sissy in any sort of way. Hopefully.**

_**Losing the Plot**_

If intoxicating a friend just to see what the insides of his room looked like was considered wrong, Link had to agree. Nor did he want to be right, since he'd been doing that for (in his opinion) far too long.

Perhaps it was taking it a bit too far, inebriating some other person just to look at his living quarters, but after three years of knowing him and having never been invited (heck Link didn't even know where in the castle his stupid room was) the Hero had felt a little peevish perhaps, towards the not-deliberately-friendly-or-hostile gesture. But by completely smashing him up, Link not only would have been able to go into the room, but he would have a legitimate invite/permission/reason to be in there, and considering his friend's prowess, he refused to be caught looking for his room like some thief. Hero of Time or no, if he was caught Link was sure he would be force fed his own intestines before being frozen, then burnt, then processed through a particularly blunt and rusty sausage machine, his friend's foot placed idly on the lever that set it to motion. Then he would be given to the pigs, because the dogs would be too good for him.

It was not a pleasant thought.

And he'd heard plenty of stories about drunk people. How they could get giggly and silly and do the most bizarre dares. How their tempers turned ugly and start throwing chairs at people. How it seems to strip them bare to their soul and encourages them to spill their inner most desires and deepest secrets. So, having never seen or heard of the mysterious, hard-nosed, no-nonsense, sharp-witted (and tongued) muscle-bound heaven-to-earth _hotdamn gorgeous_ Sheik ever to be—goddess forbid—_drunk_, Link had been determined for months to get the Sheikah 'under the influence'.

He had never had a plan in which so many things could, and did, go wrong.

The original plan involved one of Zelda's courtship parties, an expensive splurge on the most alcoholic drink on the northern side of Hyrule and a docile Sheik accepting a cup from him.

However, Zelda, not enjoying the company of suitors, kept holding the parties at bay. Link, being the Castle Gardener and the Occasional trainer of guards, didn't have much cash. As for Sheik, he was the most suspicious bugger in the history of Hyrule.

Link had spent the weeks like an impatient stalker, hording his rupees under his bed, counting them as if possessed. Sheik was constantly followed, accompanied by 'suspense music' that Link kept muttering under his breath. He stopped soon after he woke in the infirmary with multiple injuries on his person, and Zelda yelling at a stony Sheik to apologize. In an attempt to make the parties come quicker Link suggested to Zelda that she needed to relax and get laid. Perhaps Malon would have been a little more lenient about this impertinent and rather hypocritical comment, but Zelda, being the Princess of the country told him fiercely and loudly that she should've let Sheik dismember him.

But, inevitably, the party came. Link felt he was rather prepared.

Zelda had forced on him no less than six menservants to dress him up (he hated being dressed up) but Link let it slide because he wanted to look fairly handsome (at least he hoped so) for his crush. Nervously he checked his bottles full of drink, a mixture of Hyrule's strongest stuff and the Gerudo's worst wine (it was pretty much pure alcohol so they _had _to get rid of it). As usual, he had four of them on his belt, and he'd added food dye to make them look like juice, red potion, blue potion and fairy water. He'd filched some sherry from the kitchens and managed to crystallize it. He crushed it to dust and mixed them in respective pouches full of sugar and salt, and he had acquired the set of mind in which he found himself capable of spiking anything that Sheik should, would, could, may, will, touch.

"Damn it…" He shuffled his booted feet, a little high-heeled, sleek and very uncomfortable. He couldn't even roll his toes around. He pulled at his cream collar, belonging to a shirt that was made of what he thought might be silk but wasn't sure, wishing he wasn't wearing a ceremonial hauberk with a vest on top of that. The outfit was dedicated to his patron goddess Furore, so it had a ridiculous amount of ivy embroidery coiling over the cloth, featuring a roaring lion over the whole of his left side in a brilliant shade of orange.

He hoped he didn't look ridiculous for his own sake.

Then with a fanfare accompanying him, Sheik appeared.

He had abandoned the old skin tight battle suit years ago since he didn't really need it now that Ganondorf didn't technically exist anymore. He'd been prone to wear baggy shirts and even baggier trousers from then on, knives strapped to him underneath like a deadly skin of armour. Tonight, Zelda seemed to have persuaded him out of it.

Link's stomach plummeted. The Sheikah looked _stunning_.

The coat he wore was red, glittering with specks of silver and gold. It almost swept the floor in its length, and caught a few eyes in its majesty. It was clasped at his chest and waist over a cream shirt that had a turtle neck long enough to cover the bottom half of his face, and his hair was free aside from the leather thong that held his frayed (Sheik insisted that it was a layer cut, but Link had decided that it looked too natural on him to be a mere _cut_) golden hair. His breeches were a darker shade of beige, and his brown doe-skin boots looked great on him.

Link's heart shuddered. Sheik had never, ever looked so good.

Without his realising his legs had moved; he was right next to the red-eyed man.

Sheik looked at him suspiciously. "Hello."

"Hi," Link was _very _glad that he sounded perfectly sane, "Sorry about all the bother I gave you a couple of weeks ago,"

"You better," he scowled before turning away, "I already have enough trouble as it is…"

"Huh?"

Link scowled, sharp faced. Sheik had the decency to look mildly guilty before putting on an almost… guarded, expression. Link knew it all too well. "Is someone bothering you?"

"Aside from you," he replied loftily, "Nobody really dares."

"Maybe they should," Link couldn't help but say it a little harsher than intended, and the gaze Sheik gave him was cool.

"Should, yes. But _would_ they?"

Link grinned back at the smirk Sheik displayed in his tone, a mutual agreement of a challenge. There was no hesitation on Link's part now, because he had a head start, and he was going to _use_ _it_.

"How about a drink?" the Hero offered casually enough, "I'd like to start on the list of Sheik maulers."

"Ahem…"

They stopped, considered the voice. They slowly, carefully, titled their heads six inches towards the bottom right, and there she was, completely and utterly forgotten despite her high title and status. Link gave an uneasy laugh. "Um… eh…. Hi, uh, Zelda. Princess Zelda."

She frowned childishly. "Enjoying yourselves?"

Link blushed. He had totally forgotten that the only reason Sheik ever got a fanfare was when he accompanied his charge. In his embarrassment he decided he needed to place her somewhere far away where she would never be able to get back to Hyrule castle and inevitably to Sheik. Preferably at the bottom of Lake Hylia.

"I'll leave it up to you," she sighed, gliding off, "I have to make sure a Baronet doesn't challenge a Baron to a duel to the death."

"See you," Link called out, forcefully gay, before turning to Sheik. "Drinks?"

He frowned. He placed his hand on his hip and unhitched a flagon of liquid from his belt, dashing all the Hero's plans by saying rather bluntly,

"I've got my own."

"""""""""""""""""""""""""

Link had spent the rest of the night getting himself pissed on his own booze.

He had sat, sulkily and quietly, at the corner of the ballroom, glaring possible dancers away and just watching Sheik, a petulant disappointment in his eyes.

He had so been looking forward to this…

Link took another gulp from his second bottle and grimaced. He must've put Sheik on his guard, acting so stupidly over the weeks. Perhaps Zelda had informed the Sheikah of him wanting the parties to continue. Other theories and regrets and speculation rushed Link's conscience so much that he took another gulp of Concoction 2 so the voices in his head went feeble.

Link growled at himself, face boiling with heat of humiliation and intoxication. He should've been straight forward, he was the Hero of Time for Furore's sake, he should not be sitting in a corner wallowing in his misery! Fight for him! Fight with head high!

"That's what I'll do!" Link bellowed to himself, startling a lone couple that had intended to kiss each other.

The Hero marched, grabbed Sheik and miraculously not making a scene, dragged him off to a corner that was relatively secluded to turn him around and say promptly, "Sheik, you are a hella strong bastard and bat-shit suspish… supsishi… bat-shit suspect."

Sheik's straw eyebrow lifted as he delicately took his hand away from the red-faced hero's. "You're drunk, aren't you."

"Mnot!"

"Right," Sheik drawled, his eye speaking an opinion contrary to the statement as he pressed his hand against the small of Link's back, steering him in the general direction of a nearby chair, "I'll just get us some water…"

Goosebumps burst across his arms as Link felt Sheik's hand (Sheik's _hand_!) against his back, and with it a wild notion that just might work, that might not make this night completely worthless…

Purposely he stumbled, knocking against his friend's shoulder. Sheik grunted and scowled at him. Link gave an almost giggly laugh. "I'm not drunk."

"I have rights to believe that you are." He half-snapped, pushing the green-clad youth into a couch. Sprawled there, half groggy, half delirious with joy, Link could swear that Sheik was giving him a concerned eye. "You look great today."

The smallest of double-takes. Sheik looked away and muttered, "_Drunk_," before attempting to move away.

Link encouraged, grasped his hand. "Mnot drunk! See, I've only been drinking these!"

Sheik, looking at the bottles with a half-lidded eye, drawled, "Potion, potion, and… potion. Why am I not surprised?"

"They don't make you drunk!"

"You prove otherwise."

"Since when have I been good proof?"

Unbidden, a memory involving lots of mirrors, phantom rumours, a particular shack in the Kakariko Graveyard and a child that had an unhealthy obsession with ghosts, illusions and death in general, passed between the two. The result had been a very tired Sheik dragging a twitching Link away—by his foot.

"Give me those," Sheik growled, swiping the bottles from the hero, sitting next to him to get a good look at the liquids. He sniffed the first, gave it a suspicious frown before lowering his cowl to sip it. He recoiled, sticking his tongue out. "What _is_ this!?"

"Potion?" Link grinned, and encouraged Sheik to a very poor guessing game that lasted for all his bottles (it was good to have several colours).

By the end of it Sheik was red faced and moody. "I am getting water no matter what you say. If you dare stop me Hero, I will personally throttle you with your own hat!"

In fits of giggles Link watched him go, not as elegant or sure footed as usual.

Gleefully, Link lunged for Sheik when he came back with the goblets and the jar. "Yay, Sheikie!"

"Gerroff and _drink_, you hooligan!" Sheik snapped back, dumping him back onto the long chair, looking incensed that he, the great Shadow warrior, had to look after a tottery Hero of Time.

"Only," Link deliberately slurred his voice as he produced his other two devious pouches, "If we get to play."

The red-eyed youth agreed in a rather aggressive and exasperated manner, pointing with a menacing finger that it was to ensure that Link avoided trouble.

He had no idea he was plunging into it himself.

In an hour or two, (maybe three and a half) while they 'tested' each other on who could endure the most sugar or salt in their water, Sheik inevitably got himself intoxicated. Link avoided further damage to himself by pouring all spiked drinks offered him into a conveniently placed flowerpot.

Funnily enough, Link didn't have a single regret. Sure, he knew without a doubt that in the morning he was going to be murdered mercilessly by Sheik and Zelda and _Impa_ (Link tried not to dwell on the latter-most person) and he'd be suffering some self-depreciating thoughts later, but so far, he was far too busy enjoying Sheik relaxing back into the chair (maybe he should rename it a couch…) smiling languidly, as if he, the great Sheikah warrior, _owned_ the Hero of Time.

And it was true, really. But right now it was vice-versa so _there_.

As Sheik slowly got under the influence of poor drink, he became… relaxed. The cowl around his face was removed, and Link delighted in the action, since, seeing Sheik's face were rare, if not legendary occasions. His face changed every time too, from the passage of time or some injury from training, or merely the expression (most of the time disgruntled or half-shamed because usually it was Link forcing the cloth down at every opportunity.)

But he was smiling this time, and Link's stomach filled with warmth that had nothing to do with wine.

"You should do that more often," Link teased, and Sheik gave him a quizzical expression.

"Do what?"

"Smile."

Sheik did, snorting in amusement. "I do, thank you. You just don't see me."

"Yeah, I bet it's something like this," Link gave a blood thirsty smirk. "Or this." A grim grin, staring down an imaginary dead enemy "Or-"

"Stop!" Sheik clutched his stomach laughing uncontrollably, "Stop it you retard!"

Link was beside himself with joy. Sheik was laughing at _his_ jokes, and "You called me retard! You haven't done that in years!"

"Really?" he chuckled, draping himself leisurely on the couch again, only closer to the Hero. Link felt Sheik's warmth through his coat and trembled. "I always think it."

Link grin turned uneasy. "Always…?"

"Oh not that always, you numbskull," he muttered gruffly, closing his eyes, looking angelically drowsy in Link's gaze. He had a light jaw, smooth aside from the scar that ran from his chin to the base of his neck, a result of a particularly nasty battle between them and a platoon of moblins. (Link had made sure all of them had been mercilessly decapitated before the reinforcements arrived.) His nose was freckled with darker shades of brown, scattered like a handful of mustard seeds on a plane of bronze. His eyelashes were surprisingly long; his cheek bones and hollows prominent. Link would have insisted that Sheik underfed himself if he was in a position to do so.

Link's gaze caught the Sheikah's mouth. _Now or never_, a sly voice in his head chuckled, _Kiss him_.

"Link, what are you thinking?" Sheik muttered, red-faced, but sharp eyed, lifting one of his eyelids to wonder at a rather guilty and flustered Hylian.

Link grinned haltingly and replied, "Oh you know, about the last time you called me retard was when Impa told us off…"

Sheik snorted, going into a fit of chuckles, "Oh, I remember that. How many years ago though?"

"Three," Link chuckled back, his stomach rolling with it, "We tried to sneak into some ambassador's room because we both agreed he had no right in taking my weapon. And she caught us."

"Didn't you say that your spine would never be the same?" Sheik was laughing outright now, clutching at his middle.

"Yeah! Yea, oh gods the weight she made us ca… carry…"

Link felt his face do a sort of spin in heat, rapidly from hot-to-cold-to-hot-again, as he laughed hard with Sheik, met eyes with a cold, murderous looking Zelda, then felt his friend sprawl himself across his lap, giggling feverishly.

"_So_," Zelda spat, eyeing the completely and utterly drunk Sheik that was nuzzling Link's stomach. Link made a strangled sound.

"Um…"

"_What have you done to my bodyguard you…!_"

Link winced as she used a series of names that was not appropriate in a Princess's vocabulary.

""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Link staggered under Sheik's weight as they travelled through the corridors, a mad sort of glee in Link's heart as he asked the Sheikah, "So left or right here, Sheik?"

"Mmf," he muttered, leaning a little to the left. Link obliged.

Sheik was oddly quiet when drunk; happy but quiet, apart from the occasional burst of sound/laughter. And drowsy. He was succumbing to sleep like a child to a lullaby, and Link hadn't known that it would be possible, really. Sheik had once survived without sleep for two nights on a stake out when others went a little… cuckoo, per se.

He'd been hoping for a more rowdy personality considering the stories he'd been told by fellow soldiers, but Sheik seemed to refuse accommodating into blanket stereotypes.

Well, we'll see about that…

"So, Sheik," Link smirked, as he stumbled around another corner, "Feeling up to a dare or two?"

"Mwat…?"

"That is, of course, if you're too drunk…"

"Mnot drunk." Sheik stubbornly muttered, trying to stand on his own, "Brinnit."

"Oh we won't do the dares _today_," Link replied loftily, staggering with glee, "But would you consider climbing to the tower roof and singing some carols?"

"Mmm… mebe." He mumbled, breath hot against the hero's neck, "Later."

Link was ecstatic. A sober Sheik would have downright _refused_ and killed him in the process. "Would you go skinny-dipping _right now_?"

As the Hero glanced to the side to monitor the reaction, he found Sheik's eyes meet his, sly and dangerous and smug. Link's heart ran frantic circles in his chest as soft lips, free from the usual bindings, stroked his ear. "If you come with me…"

With a thrill of elation Link suppressed the urge to act on the suggestion. He concentrated on looking for Sheik's room. But it was suddenly extremely hard to even walk, what with his crush's breath ghosting over his throat in low, husky chuckles, the arm he had pulled over his shoulder drifting over his chest as the Sheikah's fingers, light and deft from knife work, carefully picked at the ties of his shirt and hauberk.

Heavenly torture was the best way of describing the last few metres to Sheik's room.

"Here you go," Link finally sighed, dumping the Sheikah onto his bed. Funnily enough, it was bare, as if nobody slept in it. At all.

But there seemed to be lots of… wait, no. Link frowned.

The room was full of rugs. The walls, aside from where the windows were, were covered in tapestries that looked like liquid cloth, rippling without wind, telling stories and legends in their intricate pictures. The rugs on the floor were for comfort, Link guessed, some of them woven with animal fur. The Hero crouched, and touched one. He guessed wolfos. Another… gods he had never felt anything like it. Maybe something from the Snowpeaks…? He had never been there after all.

He looked around a little more. Aside from the extreme carpeting, and a blanket folded neatly at the foot of the bed (why hadn't he noticed that before?) the only thing worth noting was the few towering piles of books poking out in various parts of the room and… no furniture.

"Sheik,"

"Mmf?"

"This… _is_ your room, right?"

"Yem."

"Is the fact that you have no furniture in your room the main reason why when you're asked to sit you go for the floor rather than the chair offered?"

"Does it matter?" he muttered irritably, sounding sleepy, "I find chairs and tables a waste of space, alright? The only reason I have this bed is cause Zelda made me have it because she doesn't want me sleeping on the floor…"

"You sleep on the floor!?"

"Ye gods, not you too…"

"But _why_…"

"Sheikah origins are tribal. We usually don't carry furniture around, because it's just too heavy. Just cause I live in a castle doesn't mean I want to live like a Hylian prick…"

A knife plunged unexpectedly a Link's chest. Perhaps it was the fact that, completely smashed, Sheik was really blunt and, well… honest. He was always blunt, but he was never exactly specific about anything that had got to do with himself.

Hylian prick, huh…?

"Hey, uh, Sheik," Link carefully strode to the bed, rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully, "Um… uh… Do you, er, love… somebody…?"

But Sheik seemed to be asleep. Great. Half his guts had been spent on that single, blundering question.

Link had had plenty of nightmares in his life, but there were four that definitely stood out above the rest in the sense that they were most realistic and the most probable, and the most frightening.

Number four: He was in Hyrule Field, and had just confessed to Sheik about his undying love for the Red-eyed youth. Sheik had looked at him and said: "I'm sorry, Link, but I'm incapable of love." And as he turned away the ground swallowed Link up, plunging him to wakefulness.

Number three: The same sort of thing, only Sheik's reply was "I'm sorry, Link, but I'm incapable of loving _you_." Before the ground swallowed him up. He woke up gasping.

Number two: They were in darkness, a galaxy without stars. After his confession, Sheik would say, "Link, I'm incapable of loving you. Move aside." Then gently nudge him away, and hold a girl in his arms. Link usually woke up sweating, tears adding to the trails of liquid fear.

Grand Worst Nightmare Number One: Sheik would laugh; pull off his mask to openly sneer at him to say, "Link, I'm incapable of loving you. Good-bye." A sword stabs him from behind, and as Link falls to his knees, a man, sometimes a new face in the Castle that Sheik had talked to rather animatedly, or a soldier that looked at Sheik admiringly, or worse, the worst, was seeing himself, but not himself, a Link that resembled the one that emerged from the Water Temple, walk to the Sheikah, hands drenched in his blood, embrace _his_ Sheik, and they kiss.

_Then,_ Link falls into screaming wakefulness.

He wished they would stop. He wished he knew. Did Sheik… _care_?

Once again, that sly, cowardly voice whispered, _Now or never_. _KISS HIM_.

Oh what the heck.

Link bent down, propped his hands on either side of Sheik's head, considered the awkward position and got comfortable before leaning, carefully, towards his face…

"Mmm…?"

Link froze, only inches away from Sheik's nose, his fringe mingling with the youth's. And he was without doubt, looking at him.

"So you _are_ awake!" Link managed to strangle out, forcing a quavering smile despite his twisting heart and panicking mind. "Come on, you have to answer my question."

"What question?" Sheik grumbled, seemingly unconcerned by the lack of distance between themselves. Contemplatively, he brushed his fingers through Link's hair, sending Link's poor hopes on another marathon.

"Um… uh… you know, you have a crush, right?" He was sweating. Oh gods, he was sweating. "I mean, more than a crush. First love, I guess, well it-doesn't-have-to-be-first-I-was-thinking, along… the, lines of, now…?"

His chest and intestines really hurt. Whatever the answer, Link had the feeling he would burst from the tension he was screwing himself into.

"Mm…" Sheik blinked, slowly, drawing circles in Link's hair. The tiny part of his brain that wasn't begging and howling for Sheik's reply really enjoyed the soothing action and w-

The grip tightened, pushed down. Link found the pain in his chest and intestines burst to flames.

"""""""""""""""""""'"""""

Having had lots of friends-who-happened-to-be-girls, and a particular liking for lists, Link had developed a type of chart for certain kisses. There was:

The Owl: A peck on the cheek. Platonic, not very intimate, shared between friends and family.

The Fairy: A proper kiss between lovers or soul-mates, reserved for sunsets and raining days and morning-afters.

The Keese: Vicious, propelled by lust or extreme hormones, observed mostly in dark obscure corners or in very private bedrooms. Involves lots of teeth.

The Octorok: Less kiss, more 'I'm going to suck your face off.' action, observed mostly in bars, as people don't tend to know/care who they're kissing because they're so effing drunk.

The list came to Link's subconscious mind because he was finding himself _kissing Sheik_, and this was no Owl.

Now, also, it was not his first time being kissed, nor experiencing what he liked to call 'warm fuzzies'. You get warm fuzzies when you hold hands with someone you like (Saria, age nine), when people tell you that they like you (Ruto, age thirteen), when you get a kiss on the cheek (Malon, age fourteen) or when you experience your first kiss (Zelda age sixteen, but really, it was mostly to prove to himself that, ultimately, he was _not_ attracted to women).

The 'warm fuzzies' were scorching his insides. And he loved it.

Sheik, always the better wrestler, rolled on top of him and gravity took over; they thudded to the floor, and Link still found himself underneath, gripping Sheik tighter for fear of the heat inside him escaping. Sheik retaliated by making the kiss deeper, which suited Link just fine; he found himself frantically kissing back. The world dropped away and what remained was ragged breathing, a battle of teeth and taste and tongue. The desire that rushed through every fibre of his skin and muscles and bone tore him with love, lust, elation…

They collapsed, gasping, unable to remove even a scrap of the ceremonial garb from each other. Cursing, Link banged his head against the floor.

"I _cannot_ believe this…"

Sheik laughed. "Which part is so hard to believe Hero?"

"I don't know…" was his pathetic reply, and Sheik rolled his eyes. He slipped off of the Hero of Time to lie on the floor, eyes closed, a satisfied smile on his lips. He played with Link's hair, making him sigh. "That feels good…"

"Mmm…"

Then Link half jumped, eyes widening. He gulped, a completely unwelcome revelation taunting his mind. "…You're not drunk."

"I am a little," Sheik muttered truthfully, as he frowned into his overly furry carpet, "Just not as much as you would have thought, or liked."

"U-um… I uh…"

"Then again," he added contemplatively, "You're not as drunk as I thought or would have liked, too."

"I love you," Link blurted out, pushing himself up and around to meet Sheik's surprised gaze, "I didn't smash you up just to, you know, do anything, I only wanted to see what your room was like and have proper reason to be there I _swear_ I didn't plan this to happen, I… I'm not a pervert…"

Sheik raised a sceptical eyebrow. "…You spike me to see my room, and that doesn't count as being a pervert?"

"I'm just trying to say," Link muttered a little irritably, "That I didn't plan to maul you."

"If you insist," Sheik's smile was wan, as he caught Link's chin to kiss him once more. Link eagerly pressed for it, though making sure that it seemed relatively harmless. _Relatively_.

"It was technically me that mauled you anyway," Sheik sniggered, sitting himself up as Link dazedly let that sink in,

"Holy crap you're right."

"But it's still you that intoxicated me."

"You know…" Link licked his lips, still hardly believing that they had met with Sheik's, "I'm starting to think that you _let_ me trick you into drinking my booze, which… doesn't count as tricking, does it."

"Nope." Sheik gave him a hand to pull him up, and gave him a quick kiss once more, making the Hero of Time swoon. "And speaking of which, I think you can consider yourself loved by me too."

Link's knees buckled, but he held himself up. "Really…?"

"That is," Sheik frowned warningly, "If I do remember all this in a good light tomorrow morning through the hangover I will undoubtedly have because of you."

Link's grin was ecstatic. "Just don't feed me to the pigs, hon."

"The only mouth you will be feeding," he hissed almost angrily, pressing his body against the green-clad man's, "Will belong to me."

"Gods," he murmured against Sheik's copper neck, his mind working frantically over an image of the two of them glued together in a secluded lake, "That I do not mind _at_ _all_."

* * *


End file.
